Gold
by Silverblind
Summary: To accept her new life, she had to leave the old behind - for good and all. A blossoming love and good friends might help. - COMPLETE -
1. Chapter 1

**Those who came for smut and don't care about plot might be best served by the second chapter...**

* * *

The sun was barely beginning to peek over the mountains when Danse woke, the barest hint of sunlight enough to rouse him as years and years of military training kicked in. Even though many months had passed since his exile from the Brotherhood of Steel, his old habits were hard to shake. He rose quickly, stretched, and dressed, splashing his face with cold water before he left his room and knocked on the door across from his. The door had been painted an immaculate red, vibrant, almost seeming out of place in a world where everything was faded and ruined. It fell open under his touch, allowing him to see that the bed within was empty. He stepped inside and placed a hand where Ava should have been, the sheets cold and barely wrinkled under his palm. He understood. Had he been in her place, he surmised he would not have slept much, either. He turned and left the empty room as a brisk wind filtered through the tattered curtains.

He found her sitting on the steps leading to her house's front door, watching the sun rise and clutching a cup of lukewarm coffee in shaking hands. He touched her shoulder gently as he came up behind her and crouched to her level, but she did not meet his gaze. The dark circles under her eyes were a telltale sign of the many sleepless nights she had spent tossing and turning in her bed before today had finally come. He slowly pried the chipped cup from her grasp, putting it down with a slight _clink_ on the concrete steps before wrapping one hand around both of hers as the other brushed a stray lock of hair from her tear-stained cheek. He saw her take a deep breath before she finally looked at him, and resolve replaced grief in her eyes as she accepted the hand he offered to help her stand.

"Are you ready?" Danse asked quietly.

"Yes," she answered, her voice hoarse, but steady. "I'm ready."

* * *

She had been putting it off for more than a year, this terrible thing that would mark the definitive end of her old life. Somehow, a foolish part of her had wanted to leave the matter be, as if she might still one day wake to find that it all had been a dream. But when the thought of leaving this new life she had built from the ground up had begun to hurt, when the idea of losing every friend she had made in this strange future became unbearable, she knew it had to be done; for herself, for those she now called friends, and for the one she now held dearest.

A wave of nausea washed over her as the elevator to Vault 111 ground to a start, only the grip of Danse's hand on hers keeping her on her feet as the Vault's iron jaws closed above her little group, swallowing the sky and drowning them in darkness. The others were silent, the sound of their breathing the only sign of their presence. She felt as if she could barely breathe, and thought she might faint, the gloom closing in on her, but then they were at the bottom of the elevator shaft, and harsh white light blinded her as the gate pulled itself upward with difficulty to allow them to step off the platform. The smell of chemicals, rust and decay she would forever associate with Vault 111 assaulted her senses, and she almost gagged. But she steeled herself, looked at her friends, and guided them forward.

She was grateful some had accepted to come with her, and those who had refused she did not blame. Grief was not a burden to be shared with the unwilling. But she could not deny that having Danse, Piper, Nick, Hancock and Preston at her side gave her more courage than she ever thought she could have.

Their footsteps rang loud in the empty Vault, and she heard her friends whispering between themselves as they passed rows upon rows of cryogenic pods, each containing a piece of a past they could not even imagine. She could not help but glance at the worn stretcher Preston and Hancock held between them, and at the clean white sheet folded neatly in Piper's hands. Though her steps faltered, she pressed on.

Ava stopped them when they reached the only two functional pods in the Vault, the quiet hum and clink of the machines the only sounds to be heard. One of the pods was open, only waiting for someone to step inside before resuming its function, while the one across from it was closed, though the frozen person inside had long since died. Ava heaved a shuddering sigh as she went to the closed pod, peering through the small window for a long time before letting her hand hover above the release button. She gathered what was left of her courage and pressed it.

The pod swung open almost noiselessly, the icy wave of chemical-laden air that swept over the group making them shiver. As the fumes slowly faded, Ava was greeted by the sight of Nate's frozen body, and despite herself she took in every detail of him, including the bullet wound that glowered, red and fresh, on his temple, as perfectly preserved as the rest of him. _I avenged you,_ was all she could think as she watched Hancock and Nick step forward. They handled Nate's body with care, laying it gently on the stretcher. _Kellogg paid for what he did. To you. To Shaun. To me._

Piper wrapped the sheet around him, a makeshift funeral shroud, and they looked at her expectantly when it was done, Danse freeing her hand as he stepped back. She waved them ahead without her, and they retreated quietly.

Ava stared at the two empty, open pods for a long time before she could bring herself to turn away, and as she made her way toward the elevator, she glanced into each and every pod she passed, seeing the faces of friends, neighbours, and strangers. So many faces, too many to remember, though she studied them all for a moment before moving on. _I will return_ , she promised as the sliding door leading into the cryogenic chambers closed behind her back. _I will return, and I will lay you all to rest_. But not today. Today, she was burying her husband. He had been dead 60 years. She owed him that.

* * *

A sea of rolling grey clouds had covered the sun when they emerged from the Vault, and a crisp spring wind lashed at their faces as they stepped off the platform and started down the hill. Danse fell into step next to her, and she reached for his hand, grasping it so tight she thought her own bones might break. He said nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her even as his hand squeezed hers back reassuringly, and she knew he was concerned. She could have smiled at that, had the circumstances been different. She was the one that always worried. But today, she was empty.

Codsworth met them at the gate of Sanctuary's cemetery. It was a quiet spot, not far from the settlement itself, a square of bare land around which a low stone wall had been erected and a wooden gate had been put up. Few graves had had to be dug since they had first settled in Sanctuary, but today one had been prepared, yawning open in a secluded corner, shadowed by a leafless oak, waiting to be filled.

The stretcher's wheels clanked and squeaked on the uneven ground, too loud in the silent morning air. As her friends arranged themselves around the grave, Ava let go of Danse's hand, looking at them one by one before she finally forced herself to look at the body on the stretcher. She felt tears well in her eyes once more, but she had wept enough for now. So she wiped them away and stepped back, watching as Danse, Hancock, Preston and Nick lowered her husband into his grave.

The words came as they laid him down. It hurt to say them, as memories of a happier time rushed at her from the fog of remembrance, half-forgotten images of a world so beautiful that she hardly believed it had been real passing behind her eyes.

"You did not know him, but you should know about him." They turned to her at the sound of her voice, and she felt her throat become thick with tears. "His name was Nate. He was a soldier. We got married two years before the bombs fell, during the War. He liked football and music and strawberry cake." From the bottom of the grave, wrapped in its stark white sheet, the body that had been her husband stared up at her. A cold swept over the cemetery, ghostly fingers playing with her hair as she closed her eyes. "He liked to play the piano even though he was horrible at it. He hated fishing, yet he went with his brother every year…" She realised that a smile had settled on her lips at the memories. But it disappeared when next she spoke. "I had to drag him to Sanctuary Hills, but once we were here he loved it. Told me he never wanted to leave again. Told me we'd… be together forever."

She felt Piper hovering next to her, her hand barely touching her shoulder, hesitating. But it was Danse Ava wanted, not her. But when Piper finally encircled her shoulders, Ava leaned into her all the same.

"He never wanted anything more than to be with me. I'll love him, always."

Her eyes fluttered open then, finding them all lowering their eyes to the ground, though she caught Danse's gaze before he could do the same. Something indescribable flashed behind his eyes at that moment, and he turned away before she could understand what she had seen, heaving a shovel from the pile they had brought the day before. The others did the same, and together they buried her husband.

It took the seven of them the better part of an hour to fill the grave, and when the task was done, Ava felt more exhausted than she ever had. She wanted nothing more than to lay down right where she stood, and sleep. But as the others slipped away one by one, whispering words of comfort and encouragement, she stayed standing before the fresh mound of dirt, staring at the white wooden cross that marked her husband's resting place.

'Nate Murdoch', it read, in neat black letters. She extended a hand, trembling fingers smoothing over the splintering wood. She wished she had a prayer, a poem, anything at all to leave behind here, in memory. But nothing came, her mind as empty as her heart.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she spied Danse's broad silhouette hovering near the cemetery's gate, visibly hesitating as to whether he should leave her to her thoughts. As she looked at him, she knew suddenly what she had seen in his eyes: jealousy. And guilt. For envying a dead man. For wishing Nate had never even existed. She wondered if that should have made her angry, or perhaps sad. But she only felt as guilty as Danse did, for wanting more than anything to go to him when she had but just thrown the last handful of dirt over her husband's grave. But Nate's memory was so distant, and Danse made her feel so alive, so loved… She couldn't decide what to do. Not right now. But as she shot a last look at the white cross marking her husband's grave before turning away, she saw that Danse had decided to leave. She called out, before he could get out of earshot, and he stopped dead in his tracks, looking up at her from halfway down the hill.

She felt something being ripped away from her whole as she slowly made her way to him, a part of her being left behind to lay on Nate's grave in lieu of a bouquet of fresh flowers. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she took Danse's hand in hers, and he said nothing as he gathered her in his arms, holding her in the silence for a long while before he took her home, to Sanctuary.


	2. Chapter 2

Burying Nate had been for the best, Ava knew. Even though the wound in her heart, scabbed over by more than a year of mourning since her escape from the Vault, had been made to bleed anew by the burial, the hole where Nate had been seemed to get smaller by the day, and she was healing. The guilt she had felt over wanting to be with Danse had slowly ebbed away as the weeks passed, leaving only a yearning for his presence, his touch, and his affection. But she worried about him, something she hadn't done in a long time. He had grown colder and more distant since she had buried her husband, reminding her of the way he had been before he had come to her for the first time. It seemed as if years had passed since then. It was not difficult to know why he had returned to silence and sullenness: the jealousy and guilt she had seen in his eyes that day were still fresh in her mind, and she had no doubt they ate at him, too, day and night.

But perhaps it was time for him to let go, as she had, so that they could move on, together. She had made her choice. Now, he had to make his.

* * *

Midnight had long since come and gone when she slipped out of her room to knock on Danse's door. She might have thought him asleep if not for the light that still filtered under his door from the inside. Pushing open the door at his invitation, she saw him bent over his gun, inspecting every inch of it, the flickering lamp on the corner of the desk the only source of light in the room. He almost seemed surprised to see her there when he raised his head, but he disguised it quickly with a smile that was not as cold as it could have been.

"Hey," she whispered, slipping inside and closing the door behind her.

"Hey there," he said quietly as he turned to face her, his eyes following her as she came closer, stopping a few steps away from him. His smile did not fade, but she saw his posture stiffen, the change so slight she might not have noticed had she not been watching for it. He folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the edge of his desk.

"I came to talk," she said. She could feel her courage leaving her even as the words left her mouth, but she could not go back now. "About Nate."

Her bluntness took him by surprise. It was plain to see in his face, and in the way his arms fell limply to his sides, though he was quick to shove his hands in the pockets of the jeans he wore. She saw it again in his eyes before he could look away; a white-hot flash of jealousy, and the wave of guilt and shame that immediately followed, smothering the flame of envy before it could take a life of its own. It was hell, seeing him like this, the tension in the line of his shoulders making him seem ready to snap at the slightest touch, but it only strengthened her desire to help him see what might lie ahead, instead of back.

"I – Matters of the heart are not – " he stammered.

"We need to talk about Nate," she repeated, coming closer still until she could touch his arm. Her touch was feather-light, and she feared he might pull away. But way he leaned into her touch made her think that this might not be so hard after all. "And about you."

He tried to pull away at that, as she thought he might, but she followed him, one hand on his arm while the other came up to cradle his cheek, making him look at her, and he did not shake her off, though he could easily have.

"There's nothing to talk about," he said gruffly. His arms unwound themselves from his chest to hang idly at his sides.

"There's plenty," she shot back. She took his face in both her hands, drawing him to his feet and against her. She felt his fingers hovering near her waist, as if he dared not touch her. After half a heartbeat, she could feel his hands settling where they belonged, and she allowed herself a smile.

"Nate is gone," she began quietly. She watched him watch her smile and speak. He seemed wary still. "I've known that for a long time now. I'll always love him, and I'll never forget him, but I need to move on. Because I want to be with you, Danse." She kissed his cheek, his nose, his forehead. He closed his eyes, listening intently to her every word. "I've mourned him for more than a year. I'm ready for a new life. And I want it to be with you. Do you… want that too?"

His eyes snapped open, meeting hers. There was something desperate there, she thought.

"More than anything," he said firmly, and every fibre of her being sang with joy. She let her thumbs brush over his cheekbones, and his grip on her tightened.

"Then what are we waiting for?" she breathed, as quietly as she dared.

Silence reigned between them for a long while, the room so still that the fluttering of a moth's wing could have been heard. She waited patiently for an answer, and when it came, it was no more than a whisper.

"You know that I'm a…"

She already knew what he was going to say. She enveloped him in her arms, and for a moment he felt as small as a child against her.

"A synth? You already know I don't care about that. To me, you're perfect as you are."

"Back there… Back then… in the cemetery…" There it was. The guilt. The shame. Laid bare for her to see. She rubbed delicate circles on his shoulders as his words came, slowly, haltingly. She did not rush him. "When you spoke of your husband… Nate… I was… I felt…" She felt him breathe deep, his chest swelling against hers. She simply waited. She knew he had never been one for words. "I felt jealous. Of a dead man. To my eternal shame, I wanted him to disappear. From your life. And mine. It was foolish, and dishonorable, and – "

"I know what I saw," she answered. "And I understand. I forgive you. It won't change my mind."

Silence again. She breathed in the scent of him, warm and familiar. Home.

"I just don't want you to regret this," he finally said, though when she looked up at him she could see the last of his resistance melting away. _Just a little push,_ she thought. _Just a little more._

"I could never regret you."

The last word had barely left her lips when his hand cradled her head to bring her mouth to his for a deep, heated kiss, and she could not help but sigh in his mouth as she threw her arms around his neck. She had never felt so warm, so safe.

"Perfect," he whispered between kisses, as a fire inside her roared to life. "Like you."

He was molten against her, setting her aflame as he held her tight, and as she let herself burn at the pyre that he was she felt bolder than she had in years. She pushed against his chest until she felt him bump into the desk behind him, grounding against him as she let her hands wander down to his chest. While one hand went to the small of his back, the other snaked lower before she broke away from his mouth, slowly sinking to her knees. She felt him catch her wrist then, and she looked up at him. There was an unmistakable heat to his eyes that made sparks run up her spine.

"What are you doing?" he breathed, leaning down to draw her back to her feet.

"Let me do this," she answered, bringing her free hand to rest on his thigh. The shiver she felt coursing through him when she brushed her thumb against the front of his jeans made her tremble with excitement, and he stopped his motion. "Let me do this. For you."

She saw the telltale flash of desire in his gaze, and his grip on her wrist loosened, though not enough that she could shake free.

"You don't have to," he whispered.

"I want to," she replied, and after the longest of heartbeat, he gave in.

It had been years since Ava had done anything of the sort, but her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as they ran up and down his thighs before going to the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling it over his head, his skin almost too hot to touch as she pressed kiss after kiss to every inch of skin that was revealed to her. When his chest was bare, she captured his mouth for a kiss, throwing the shirt aside carelessly to allow her fingers to roam over his ribs.

"Ava…"

The way he said her name shook her to her very core, and she left his mouth to trail kisses down his neck. Tendrils of wildfire unfurled through her as she made her way lower, and lower still, until she was on her knees again, and all she knew was that she wanted to make him say her name over and over and over and over again.

Her mouth was hovering above the button of his jeans now, her hands stroking the insides of his thighs idly, and she could see him, hard already beneath the fabric, begging to be released. A fevered flash of brown met her gaze when she glanced up at him, and the hard set of his jaw made heat pool in her belly. Every ounce of self-control he had seemed to be focused on holding him still for her, wrangling the instinct that screamed for him to take what he wanted. She ghosted a kiss to the front of his jeans, and heard him groan above her, low and quiet, his hands trembling and gripping the edge of the desk tighter as his body tensed.

"Ava."

Her body thrummed with the pleasure of her name on his tongue as she placed a hand against him, applying just enough pressure to draw a smothered moan from him, his hips rolling up into her touch slowly as he closed his eyes. She would have done the same had she not wanted to keep the sight of him etched into her memory.

"Please…"

She sat back on her heels then, and his eyes snapped open to look at her, dazed, but as her hands began to unbutton her blouse, slowly revealing herself to him, she heard a warm groan trickle from his lips. When it fell away, revealing her clean, white bra, she gazed up at him from beneath her lashes, almost shy. Never before had he seemed so intent and focused than in that moment, and it made her blood sing to see him so. Suddenly he leaned down toward her, his control finally snapping as he drew her to her feet, pressing her against him for a searing kiss, one hand staying at the small of her back while the other crept higher and higher up her back, until he was at the clasp of her bra. Only then did he pull away, nuzzling against the curve of her shoulder.

"May I?" he whispered against her neck, and she could only nod, so dry was her mouth. Slowly, lovingly, he pullede the straps first down one shoulder, then the other, before he unclasped it, and tore it away, baring her to him. The whisper of cloth on skin was all she could hear as she allowed him to undress her, and then he was looking at her, taking her in as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His hands slowly smoothed down her back and up again, unhindered, before he let his lips trail from her shoulder to her breasts, his breath raising goosebumps in its wake. He peppered light kisses wherever he could, and it was her turn to moan quietly. He looked at her again then, and smiled.

"Beautiful," he whispered, and he captured her mouth once more, keeping her against him. But she wanted nothing more than to feel him. Her hands were at his waist in a flash, working quickly to free him from the confines of his faded jeans, and she heard him hiss at the feeling of the cold night air on his heated flesh when he was freed. As she wrapped a moon-pale hand around his hard length, his hiss turned into a growl, and then a moan when she squeezed slightly. The heat of him sent a wave of excitement rolling through her, and the way he thrust in her hand before he could still his hips set her heart to racing. Finally, she sank to her knees again, and looked up at him.

"Show me what you like, Danse," she breathed, meeting his gaze. His eyes strayed to the fingers she had wrapped around him for a moment before flickering back to her, and she felt his hand wrap around hers. He tightened her grip a little more, and she saw his jaw shifting as he gave a first stroke, then a second, smothering the long moan that would have filled his room otherwise as she took it upon herself to stroke his length a third, fourth, fifth time. He held her gaze as they worked together, up, down, then up again, until she saw his eyes flutter closed, his breath coming in pants and gasps now. Only then did she lower her head to lay a kiss on the tip of him, followed by a swipe of her tongue. His strokes faltered and stopped, his hand falling to his side as she took over, taking more and more of him in her mouth. She heard him groan above her, and she answered with a moan of her own, his hips bucking at the sound as he laid a hand on her head, keeping her in place. One of her hands stroked the length that her mouth could not reach while the other rested on his thigh, the muscles underneath coiled so tight she thought they might snap.

"Ava… You are – " she could hear from the strain in his voice that he was close. She wanted nothing more than to feel him come apart in her hand. She took him as far as she could, obtaining an unintelligible jumble of words for her trouble. She did it again.

She could feel his need pulsing hot in her hand, the primal desire of driving himself as deep as he could in her throat. But even in times like these, his control was exemplary. She could feel her own heat between her legs as his climax approached, though she resisted the urge to give herself release. She felt his grip in her hair tighten, the fist at his side tightening until it shook. "Ava – I – "

The words came to her, sudden and unbidden, bursting from her lips before she could stop them, her mouth leaving him. _Truth_.

"I'm yours, Danse."

The fingers in her hair trembled before they reached down to cradle her cheek, threading through her dark tresses as softly as the wind, and his hips bucked into her hand as she looked up at him. She thought she had never seen anything so beautiful as his tongue darting out to lick his lips, and his eyes becoming as bright as a moon as he met her gaze.

"Mine." Suddenly he drew her to her feet again, kissing her hard, lifting her off her feet and against him until she could surround his waist with her legs. Her hand was still on him, trapped between their bodies, tight and good and as warm as the summer sun, wrenching a primal growl from him with every stroke. "Mine."

He buried his face in the crook of her neck as his hands gripped the undersides of her thighs so tight she knew she would bruise, though she could not care less as she raced with him toward his peak, burying her face in his hair, kissing the shell of his ear as she stroked harder, faster, and he was bucking into her hand without restraint now, growling and groaning, and in between whispering her name, her _name_ , over and over and over until finally she felt him give one last thrust, and his seed spilled over her hand, painting his stomach and hers in thick white ropes. She raked the fingers of one hand through his hair as he shuddered and writhed beneath her before he finally stilled, spent. They stayed as they were for a long time while he slowly regained his senses, and she kissed his cheek all the while, unhurried. Finally she felt him move beneath her and he pulled away to meet her gaze, the adoring gleam she saw in his eyes making her blush.

He kissed her lips chastely, heaving a shuddering sigh as he nuzzled at her hair, keeping her tight against him still.

"Mine," he murmured, and the hint of disbelief she could hear in his voice made her smile. She turned her head so she could kiss his cheek.

"Yours," she answered. "For as long as you'll have me."


End file.
